The Break Up
by kswizzle1994
Summary: What happens when Blaine makes an awful mistake and has to tell Kurt? WARNING- Spoilers from "The Break Up". Please see trigger warning.
1. Blaine's POV

**Warnings for spoilers from "The Break Up". I took some stuff from the promo so spoilers for the next couple of episodes I guess... but just from the promo, so if you've seen the promo, no surprises.**

**This is just strictly my take on it, nothing b****elongs to me, if you recognize it, it's not mine.**

**a little note then you can go read it :putting not putting blame on anyone. Right now, I'm just going with they were both at fault. I am not taking sides. If you want to leave hate, don't. You can try to like send it to me over telepathy, but don't leave it here. thanks! :)**

**Trigger warnings- Attempted Suicide, talk of suicide.**

* * *

It's the end of September when I finally break. I don't exactly plan it, but usually things like this are never planned.

Kurt's too busy for me. He never answers my text messages until I'm asleep, he never answers them during the day and he declines my calls to him. I know because it never finishes ringing. I can never leave a message.

I understand that he has this new job, and I'm so incredibly proud of him because this could really be his big break. But, he doesn't have time for me, and I'm so incredibly lonely.

I have no one who cares.

Eli is a freshman at OSU and is sweet and funny, and he actually cares about me. He answers my text and Facebook messages and even pokes me back.

But he's not Kurt.

We've talked for a week now, and when he invites me over, I accept the invitation. I drive the near hour it takes for me to get to his apartment, and when I hesitantly knock on his door, he opens it with a smile.

"It's nice to actually see you in person, hot stuff." He takes my hand and pulls me all the way in, closing the door with a soft _bang_.

He smiles and I return it politely, especially when he runs his hands down my biceps to settle on my waist. He's leaning in, pulling me flush against his body, and his lips are on mine.

There's nothing. No fireworks, no orchestra, nothing like with Kurt.

I gently pull away and give him another polite smile. He only nods, takes my hand again and leads me to the bedroom and shuts that door.

"You seem tense," he acknowledges in a soft voice as he slithers up to me, framing my face with one hand while the other settles low on my hip. "Just relax. I'll take care of you."

And he does. He pushes me gently back on the bed and slides up my body, purchasing my lips in another slow, gentle kiss. A tongue sneaks out and licks at the seam of my lips. I'm hesitant, but I open my mouth for him to delve in and explore the inside.

The gentle pressure of his hips against mine and the very evident hard on he has against my thigh wakes me up. My eyes fly open and I push him off with so much force that he almost tumbles off the bed.

"I-I'm sorry, t-this was a mistake," I say, my voice too shaky with unshed tears, as I sit on the edge of the bed, my back facing him.

I feel the bed dip and his arms are going around my body and running his hands along my chest, and it feels so _good_.

But it's not Kurt.

I pry his arms off and he sighs as he comes in front of me.

"You ok?" He asks gently.

"No, I should go." I stand up to leave and he nods as he opens the door for me and leads me out of his apartment. There's no words spoken, and I'm thankful for that. As soon as the door to the apartment closes, tears fall from my eyes.

I walk to the car and pray that I stop so I can actually see while I drive. I find no such luck.

I make it home safe and I'm glad when I see that my parents aren't home. No surprise there really, no one ever is.

I run up to my room and shut the door, and fall against it.

I'm so sick of myself. I can't believe I actually did that. To Kurt. To Eli. To everyone.

I actually do become sick and I make it to the bathroom just in time.

I stand in front of the mirror for awhile, just looking at my ugly reflection. The red, puffy eyes, tear tracks down my cheeks and neck, hair slightly disheveled. I can't take it anymore.

I hate myself.

* * *

I don't sleep the night before and the next day isn't all to great. I don't speak to anyone, and I barely make it class to class. It isn't until Glee club that I make the ultimate decision.

I go home and buy the last seats on the first flight to New York. I pack quickly and rush to the airport and make it just in time.

I'm stuck in the middle on the flight, to my left a woman with an angry baby, and to the right a man who leans his head on my shoulder when he's taking a nap. I don't have the heart to wake him.

When I get there, it's already dark and I do the math to see its almost eight 'o' clock. I'm thankful of the one time he did text me his address and I give it to the cab driver, but not before telling him to go to the best florist in town.

I'm thankful they're still open and I buy the largest bouquet of red roses they have.

I hurry back to the cab and remind him of the address.

It's half an hour more before I'm standing in front of his door and waiting for someone to open the door.

I brave a smile for him to not let on that something is wrong.

But he always knows. I try to brush it off with half the truth at Callbacks when he asks, but I know he's still suspicious- especially when I practically break down when singing and playing our song. I can barely finish the last line of the song because I know tonight will not turn out the way he, or even I think it will.

When I'm done I walk slowly back to the table wiping away the sweat and many tears that are on my face.

He stands up when I make it back and gives a small smile.

"Come on," he says softly as he gently squeezes my bicep. "Let's go take a walk. Battery Park is beautiful at night."

I nod and know what's coming next.

When we do speak, it's ten minutes after the fact and I tell him the truth.

I don't tell him how much I hate myself, how I've fallen into what I'm assuming is depression, but I tell him I was with someone.

He runs away once he's made his case, and I can't blame him.

I run after him though. I want to make sure he's going to be ok. I know he's not, but I don't want anything bad to happen to him.

So we do a cat and mouse chase across the city until we finally end up at the apartment.

"I don't know how I can ever forgive you," he sobs as he fumbles with the keys.

"I know," I reply with a few tears rolling down my own face.

He yanks the door open and I expect him to shut it right back in my face. But he doesn't. He turns to me and through tears motions me in.

"I'm not letting you get a fucking hotel this late at night. And as much as I'm pissed at you, I'm not letting you sleep on the shitty thing we call a couch."

The night is silent and all I want to do is cuddle up behind him, but I can't. We turn our backs on each other and fall into a not so restful sleep.

The next morning I wake up to a seemingly empty bed. I confirm this when I cautiously reach a hand out and feel the coldness on the other side.

I open my eyes and hesitantly walk out of the room into the living room to see Kurt sitting on the chair with a cup of coffee in his hands, his head tilt back and his eyes closed. If I wouldn't know any better, I would think he's asleep. But they way he's so tense, and the rise and fall of his chest tells otherwise.

A floorboard creaks when I walk across it and he opens his eyes and stares right at me.

"There's coffee in the pot still. There's sugar on the counter, but I don't think we have any milk. Cups are in the cupboard above."

I scrunch my eyebrows together and twist my hands in front of me.

"C-can we talk about this?" I ask quietly.

He chuckles slightly and it sounds so wrong. When he looks back up there's a fake smile plastered to his lips and it hurts so much.

"I don't know what there is to talk about." He stands up and walks to the couch and sits. I walk over and sit on the opposite end, not meeting his steady eyes.

"Why would you do that to me?"

I take a deep breath and run my hand over my face, letting it drop to my lap.

"I missed you. When I needed you most, you weren't there. You weren't there to help me when my parents had a big fight, you weren't there when I was all alone in my house, you weren't there when I had no one. I needed someone. I needed someone to care."

"I care Blai-"

"How about you actually show it sometime," I spit out harshly. "How about you actually show someone you actually care for once." He physically flinches at the words and probably the tone in my voice. "I understand, you have this whole new life, and your dream job that could give you your big break, but seriously, have you actually thought about me as much as you said?"

"Of course I have Blaine," he yells. "I miss you too, and I think about you every day, but I have a busy life here. Alright, it's an adjustment period. You didn't have to go cheat on me. You were the one who got all upset when I was texting someone, but you actually went and met this guy? And god knows what else happened." He's crying now and all I want to do is kiss the tears away. "You told me to talk to you if I felt unhappy. Why didn't you?" he sniffs and wipes his eyes with his sleeve on his thumb. "How can I possibly forgive you?"

There's silence after that because I don't know what else there is to say.

"Get out." He says steadily, not looking up from his cup of coffee. I'm too stunned that I don't even know what to do. He looks up then and through a broken voice yells, "I said get out!"

I scramble and try to get my legs to work properly as I quickly get dressed and grab my bag. I pause at the door as I'm about to head out and glance back to the man still sitting on the couch, his expression hard, concentrated on something on his legs.

"I still love you," I say, only loud enough for him to hear. "I don't know if you do or not, but I will always love you."

When he doesn't respond, he doesn't even look up, when he doesn't as much as flinch, I open the door wide enough for me to slide out and close it gently.

I try my hardest to keep the tears at bay... At least until I get to the airport and buy another plane ticket.

* * *

When I get home, my parents aren't even there, and I wonder briefly if they even knew I was gone. Not like they care.

I wouldn't blame them either. I'm just a huge disappointment to everyone. It's proven when I talk to Finn two days after I return home.

I go home after that and pace around my room, tears streaming down my face. I call the florist in New York City again and tell them to send flowers and a card to Kurt at his work.

It's a week and I still don't hear anything. I send chocolates.

I call him, I text him. The only thing that really gives me hope is that he hasn't changed his relationship status. But of course he hasn't been on since the middle of August. Hs last status reads, "Hanging out with the boyfriend today. Going for a picnic in the park and Disney movies. 3- with Blaine Anderson

I swallow hard as I read my comment of "I love you! See you in a bit. So excited! :)

It physically hurts me to read them, but I can't stop as I look through the pictures of me and him on his page, then mine, then from others.

I finally close the window after an hour and pull out my phone and dial his number at work.

"Isabelle Wright's office, how may I help you?"

"H-hey Kurt. It's me."

I hear him pause, take a breath, and then the solid tone signaling the end of the call. I breathe in deeply and hang up, sending him a text.

_Look Kurt, I'm so sorry. At least talk to me... About anything. Tell me something... Please._

I wait a half an hour. An hour and still nothing.

I fall on my bed and drop in a fitful sleep, just like all the other nights since that night in New York.

* * *

No one bothers to talk to me anymore. They've all found out what I did and they all hate me- as they should. I hate myself so I can't even be bothered when no one from Glee club even pays any attention to me.

It's been three weeks and my life is deteriorating minute by minute. I pace my room as I do every other day, but this time with a bottle of pain pills from my mom's medicine cabinet.

I make a final decision, and with a shaky hand, and tears streaming down my face, I write out a note to anyone who could possibly care, and set it on my bed. I lie back against the pillows, shake six of the small tablets into my hand, close my eyes and swallow them in one go.

And soon, I fall into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

The first thing I'm aware of is the sound of someone crying and a solid hand on mine. I wake up slowly and groan at the bright lights, how incredibly sick I feel, and the horrible taste in my mouth.

"Oh my god, Blaine!" A body is flung on top of me and the woman shakes above me as she cries into my shoulder. She pulls back and takes my face in her hands. "Thank god I found you in time. I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone," my mother sobs, wiping her thumb over my cheekbone as tears start to form in my eyes.

The doctor walks in then and gives a small smile.

He basically says that I can either go into counseling or go to some psycho hospital. I choose the former.

* * *

The first appointment is spent mostly in silence, the therapist asking questions about myself and I break down once in the middle when I finally open up.

"I'm just so disgusted in myself! I hate myself and no one cares."

The man on the chair in front of me says its progress and that it's going to take time, but sometime soon I'll be ok.

I want to scoff. How can I be ok when no one gives a fuck about anything I do?

* * *

When I get to go to school again, I'm faced with sympathy glances from the new members and a meeting with the former members.

"Why didn't you tell us you were having a hard time? We could have totally helped you man," Sam says as he settles in the chair beside me.

Tina looks close to tears as she sits on the desk opposite of me.

"Why do you guys care? You hate me."

"What made you think we hated you?" Tina asks perhaps a little too sweetly.

"Because of what I did to Kurt. You guys would barely talk to me."

"We didn't talk to you because you were in a funk. We tried to help, but you wouldn't pay attention to us. We really tried Blaine. We care about you, and we don't hate you. We've all been there, we've all done something to hurt significant others."

I shoulder my bag and storm out of the room, ignoring the calls for me to come back.

They just don't understand.

* * *

It's a month later and opening night of _Grease_.

The anti depressants seem to be helping and going to the therapist once a week is nice. There's not a lot of talking on my part, but he actually seems like he cares.

It's a start.

My parents try to keep a better eye on me, checking in every once in awhile at school or when I'm doing my homework my mom will pop her head in. But they're still gone everyone in awhile and that doesn't help much. I can't help but realize how much I am alone. I have no one who cares about the therapist and apparently Sam and Tina. Not even Rachel has texted me.

As I take my place on stage for the first scene, I look up and there's Kurt and Rachel in the eighth row.

I try not to seem too excited... Or distracted.

I fumble over my lines, but I make it through like any good actor.

After the show, the cast runs to the front lobby and greet people as they walk out. It's mostly loved ones from the other cast members.

No one's here for me.

I back away from the crowd and retreat to the dressing room where I take a moist _towelette_and start to wipe the make up from my face.

"You killed it up there," a voice says softly from the door.

I turn around and there's Kurt with a small smile on his face.

I turn back to mirror and shrug.

"I could have done better." _If I didn't see you in the audience._

He shuts the door behind him and sits in the vacant seat next to me.

"You might want to get out of here. Everyone will be back in a little bit to change and stuff." I try to keep the shakiness of my voice to a minimum, but it's hard when he's right there, staring at me.

"Blaine," he says softly, taking my hand away from my face and forcing me to look at him. "Sam told me what happened last month."

I sigh and yank my hand away like his touch actually burns me.

"He shouldn't have."

"I'm glad he did." He pauses and sighs. "I _hated_what you did to me, but I shouldn't have cut you off like that."

"I deserved it," I say matter-of-factly as I stand up and shrug my jacket off my shoulders and hang it up.

"Blaine, please. Can we just talk about this?"

I turn around and will the tears stinging at my eyes to not fall. "I don't deserve you Kurt. You deserve someone as talented and as loving and caring as you. Not me."

"Blaine, don't say that. Please don't say that."

"I don't regret what I did last month. I just wish it would have worked."

"Blaine?"

"I wish I were dead," I sob softly, turning back around to make sure the jacket is straight on the hanger. _To hide my tears from him._

"I'm glad you aren't. I'm happy that you're still right here."

"I messed up Kurt. I hurt you and I'm disgusted with myself. I hate myself, I hate that I did that." I turn back around and he's standing just a couple inches away from me.

"We both messed up Blaine, but you can't keep punishing yourself like this. I've forgiven you. All you have to do is accept that and forgive me too."

"There's nothing to forgive," I whisper.

"There is and you know it. You were right. I wasn't there when you needed me; I got too caught up in the new job and the new atmosphere and New York. But I forgot about what I really care about. And that's you." He pauses and steps forward to cup my face with his hands. "I'm so sorry I forgot about you and what you were feeling. Please, _please_forgive me."

He wipes a tear away from my cheek and I nod. "I do. I will always forgive you."

He takes my hand and leads me over to where we were sitting before, our hands clasped in the middle.

"I really think we need to take this break. For me to get used to this new job, and for you accept that I've forgiven you. And to forgive yourself." He pauses again and takes a deep breath. "I still love you with everything I am, Blaine Anderson. And I never should have let you go."

And then the truth spills out. The whole last month in a nutshell from no one caring, to no one talking to me, to the self loathing and the pills and the hospital. My parents working on it but obviously still not succeeding. To the therapist and the anti- depressants I'm taking, and how it seems to be working. How there's good days and bad days- most of its bad and I barely want to do anything but be alone. I tell him all of it and we're both crying messes when I finish.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you back. I'm so sorry, I should have learned by now."

"It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't your job."

"It will always be my job to make sure you feel loved and wanted. Because you are," he says softly to try to disguise the way his voice cracks on the three words.

I sob and laugh at the same time because he's here. And he still loves me. And we might actually be ok.

"I have to be in New York again tomorrow, but I'll call you this weekend alright?" I nod and I'm excited because that means I only have to wait one whole day to hear from him. "And I want you to call when you have your bad days, alright? I don't want you feeling that way. I promise to always pick up your calls."

I smile again and he leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. "Now you promise to call."

I smile and raise my right hand. "I promise to call when I have my bad days."

"And even your good days. I want to hear it all."

* * *

It's a week after and I've called Kurt at least once every day and talked to him for at least a half an hour- which is more than I could have ever asked.

Today's different though. I woke up late this morning and forgot to take my daily pill.

I shakily pull out my phone and dial Kurt's work phone.

"Isabelle Wright's office, how may I help you?"

"K-Kurt?" I'm embarrassed by his high my voice sounds.

"Blaine, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I-I forgot to take my pills this morning. I can't do this anymore Kurt. I want to die; I don't want to be here anymore."

"Blaine, baby listen to me. I want you to go take your pill right now, alright? Stay on the phone alright? I'm right here, I'll always be right here."

I do as he says and sit on the couch and pull my legs up to my chest, letting my chin rest on them.

"What happened?"

I tell him about the night before when my parents decided to actually be home and the conversation they had about how disappointed they were in me, how they didn't raise a wimp for a son and how Anderson's were strong and had beautiful women. I told him about the numerous slushies I received today, and the name written on a piece of paper handed to me during class.

"Blaine, don't believe anything they said. You are so incredibly strong, and anything but a wimp. I am so incredibly proud of you Blaine. You called me first thing when you were in trouble. I am so proud of you."

I can't help the surge of pride in me when he says that. We talk the next half an hour until I say I have homework and he has to get back to work.

"I love you Blaine."

I smile. "I love you too Kurt."

* * *

It's Christmas break when he gets to come home again- Thanksgiving being spent in Washington D.C. with the rest of his family.

We get together for coffee twice a week and the rest of the days are spent either on the phone or cuddled up on the couch.

I talk about how my sessions with the therapist are almost over and the doctor thinks that I'm getting to the point where I don't have to take the pills anymore. I'm actually getting better, and I feel better about myself. No longer disgusted with myself.

It's a gradual process, but we finally make the final decision to "officially" be together again. He trusts me enough now, and I trust myself- and Kurt- even more than before.

The next day is spent in his bed.

"I'm so glad you're here Blaine," he says as I let my head rest on his naked chest.

I squeeze his waist slightly and sigh. "Me too Kurt. Me too."

It sure is a trip, but we're in it for the long run.

* * *

**Yay? **

**I know, a little heart breaking but a good ending... right?**

**Let me know what you thought!**


	2. Kurt's POV

**So yeah... You do a lot of things while in the shower and this is it... Another fill for this 'verse only in Kurt's POV.**

**I hope you enjoy, and I hope it's not too redundant. I tried putting some new things in. Basically stuff that Kurt felt was important to him and he'll never forget. **

**Basically, this is like Blaine and Kurt were writing this themselves and put in their own details... I hope you like it!**

**please only constructive criticism... No hate please! :)**

* * *

It was just another day in New York. The grass still green, covered slightly in orange and red leaves that had started to fall die to the change in seasons. I wrapped my arms tightly around my body as another soft of wind broke through my jacket.

I make my way up to the office and settle down in my office chair as my phone goes off.

Blaine.

I jump when my office phone rings and I quickly put my headset on and press the button to connect the call.

"Isabelle Wrights office, how may I help you?"

I deny the call from Blaine and launch into the whole "Ms. Wright isn't in her office for the rest of the week, can I take a message" speech. As I hang up the phone, I pick up my cell and press the speed dial for Blaine's cell.

"Hey there stranger," his chipper voice says through the phone. I smile because despite the stressful day I know I'll have, he's making it better.

I try, I really do, to keep a conversation with him, but it's hard when the phone lines are ringing off the hook and there's so much to do.

I know he understands, he always does. And he was the one who sent me here, he knows that it would mean considerably less contact.

He knows.

I knew.

But it's still hard to not be able to talk to him and make a hurried goodbye to handle the rest of the phone calls and sigh when I'm finally called out for lunch.

I try calling Blaine again, but all I get is the machine, which is weird because he should be out of classes for the day. He should be home by now, so I send him a text, telling him to call me when he can.

I try not to think about it too much, but I get a little worried as I lay down to go to sleep that night and still nothing from the man in Ohio.

I send him another text, telling him goodnight and fall asleep.

* * *

Its the next night and I'm trying my hardest to explain to Finn that we're not just going to a regular restaurant, that this is Callbacks. When there's a knock on the door, I don't expect to see Blaine standing the with a couple dozen roses in hand, and a bright smile on his face.

I hug him tightly, not wanting to let go and collide our lips together, wishing it would never end.

I've missed him so incredibly much and I'm so glad he's two weeks early, even without notice.

But there's something... Different about him. The way he carries himself, the way his smile a little too big and his eyes just don't have the same spark they did just four weeks ago.

I ask him about it when we get to Callbacks, but he just brushes it off like its no big deal.

I know it's not a "no big deal" situation when he completely breaks down while singing our song. I try to smile through it all, when he meets my eyes with his own tearful and broken ones, but I know it falters and I know that my eyes must show some sort of concern.

When he comes back to the table, I stand up and tell him that we need to go for a walk.

I want to take his hand as we walk, but I decide against it. Not until he talks about what's bothering him. In the meantime, the ten minutes as we walk from Callbacks to Battery Park, I fiddle with my fingers, twisting and turning them, in what others would call nervousness. What I would call nervousness.

When I do ask him what's wrong, to stop lying to me, he actually tells me the truth.

And whoever said that the truth hurts... Well they never said how much.

The truth settles on my chest like a boulder hit me and slammed me against the wall. I feel the breath run out and tears spilling out of my eyes.

All I can think is... Well, horrible names to spit at him, to tell him how much of a douchebag he is.

But I decide against it, and go with the blaming and innocent card.

I run away after yelling at him for doing this to me. I run around town, trying my hardest to lose him. Stopping every once in awhile to catch my breath, to lean on a near by fence so I can try to keep myself grounded.

It doesn't work as well as I hope, but I- we- eventually make it back to my apartment.

As much as he hurt me, I can't stand the thought of him following all the way here, knowing him his reasoning is to make sure I got back safe, only to send him away to get a crappy motel room. And lets be honest. Times Square is safe at midnight. But not this neighborhood. No matter how angry I am at him, I'm not sending him out there to have the unspeakable be a possibility to happen to him.

It's awkward as we skirt around each other, getting changed out of sight of the other and sliding into the opposite sides of the bed, trying to keep the space between us at a maximum.

I can't even think about sleep tonight, but only the hot, silent tears rolling down my cheeks and landing on the pillow below. I can't help but notice the occasional, small sniffle from the other side of the bed, and all I want is to take him in my arms, sliding our bodies together perfectly until every inch of us is touching.

But he hurt me. He hurt me so much and I don't even know if I can forgive him.

I sigh as I look at the clock and see that it's only five minutes after the last time I checked.

I turn and stare at his back, thinking how he could possibly do this to me- to us. What was he even thinking?

I carefully get out of bed, knowing that sleep wasn't going to come tonight, and head out to make a fresh pot of coffee.

I sit on the chair and wait. Wait for someone, anyone to come out. But in my heart, I really want Blaine to.

Finn's up first, claiming he needs to get away. I don't miss his startled look when I tell him the truth. I really truly feel like I'm dying here, and there's no cure. No cure for this hurt that I'm feeling- that Blaine gave me.

It's an hour later that he finally emerges from the room. I hear him, but don't open my eyes. I'm too exhausted, and my eyes are so heavy. But when the floorboard creeks, I realize I have to at some point.

He's standing there, staring straight at me, rubbing one eye, and I don't miss the way that the dark circles have only darkened even more under them.

He looks so exhausted, his blood shot eyes becoming visible as he gets closer. He walks with less energy, his shoulder hunched over, his head downcast, startling when he looks up and sees me.

"There's coffee in the pot still. There's sugar on the counter, but I don't think we have any milk. Cups are in the cupboard above."

"C-can we talk about this?"

I can't help but laugh sarcastically at this, because what in the world is there to talk about?

But we do, and it only ends in a yelling match and me finally telling him to get out.

Once he does leave with a final, "I do still love you", I finally cry the tears that I thought I didn't have.

I set my cup on the coffee table as my hands shake uncontrollably, and I bring them to my face to muffle the sobs that are erupting my throat.

I don't know how long it's been, but Rachel comes in and sits with me, wrapping her arms around me and drawing me close as she runs a hand up and down my back.

"I-I can't do this Rachel. I still love him."

"I know, baby, I know."

We stay like that for who knows how long, her hand running through my hair and down my back, repeating the motion several times until I have calmed down enough to say I have to get ready for work, ignoring the protests from Rachel that I should just stay home and get some rest.

I ignore the looks of sympathy from my co workers as I walk through the halls of and to my hole on the wall office. I ignore the "you look like shit" comments and just try to get through the day.

When I get home, Rachel hands me a natural sleep aid. I take it willingly and even though its only seven, I fall into a semi restful sleep, only to wake up three hours later so I can run to the bathroom and empty everything from my stomach, the nightmare of me standing in the corner watching Blaine having sex with another man burning in my mind.

* * *

It's two days later when I receive the first "I'm sorry" package. An assortment of flowers with a cheesy card begging for forgiveness.

I throw the card away and give the flowers to some homeless girl on the way home.

The flowers remind me too much of that one day on the staircase just a year ago.

"These are to celebrate... You."

I sigh as I walk in the door, and look at my phone when I feel it buzzing.

Blaine.

I hit decline.

I know it might seem a little immature to ignore everything he hands me, but he hurt me. He hurt me so much and I don't even know anymore.

I sit on the couch, my knees drawn up to my chest and bury my face in them as I cry. Cry for the hurt, cry because I miss him, and I still love him. But I don't know how I could trust him again.

Rachel comes home around ten and hugs me close and let me cry it out.

"Have you at least talked to your dad?" She asks as I lay my head in her lap and let her stroke my hair back.

"No, not yet," I sigh, wiping a tear at runs down my cheek. "I don't want to yet- give Blaine a little time before he has my dad to worry about."

We both chuckle slightly at the almost cruel joke.

"You miss him, don't you?" She states almost as a fact, rather than a question.

I only sigh and nod awkwardly against her leg.

"So, incredibly much."

* * *

It's a week later and I receive chocolates- my favorites of course, with another "sorry" note attached.

I distribute them out among my co workers.

There's a text from him on my iPhone from him. I delete it before I open it, only to read the next "please forgive me, please talk to me" message.

A call comes in from my work phone. When I learn its him, I take a deep breath in and immediately hang up.

I just can't do it today.

Another text comes in from him and I delete it. Again.

I go home and tell Rachel.

"Don't you think you're being a little too harsh? You don't have to forgive him, but at least talk to him about it."

"I just can't Rach... Not yet anyway."

That night I wake up with a scream lodged in my throat, the horrifying memory of the nightmare playing through my mind.

Me pinning him to the bed, kissing him deeply and hearing him utter a name that is certainly not Kurt.

* * *

I call my dad the next day and try to fight back the tears that are pooling around my eyes.

"What do you need me to do kid? I can be on the next flight out there if you need me, or I can walk right up to his door and-"

"No dad, it's alright. I'll be alright, I just thought you'd want to know before it gets through the rumor mill."

"Well, if you need anything kid, let me know. Don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks dad."

"I sure do miss ya," he says, and I can tell he's getting chocked up.

"I miss you too dad. But I promise I'll be there for thanksgiving. And if you ever want to come to New York, let me know and I'll take a day off work."

We talk for another fifteen minutes before we hang up. And I can honestly say I'm happier because of the call.

I go to sleep easily without the sleep aid that night.

* * *

I don't hear from him, or about him in a whole month and I wonder if he just gave up. Or if he moved on.

When we receive a call from Finn telling us about the musical, we book the next fight out to see it. We wouldn't miss it for the world.

I can't help but stare at him every time he's on stage, no matter if he has a solo or if he's just in the background.

Something's up with him, but I don't know what. He trips over his lines and I can swear sometimes he catches my eyes. I'm probably just dreaming it.

When we meet everyone out in the lobby, Blaine is no where to be found.

"Hey Kurt!"

I turn to the voice and smile when Sam comes up and slaps a hand only shoulder.

"Hey man, we've missed ya around here."

"Yeah, I miss you guys too. Do you know where Blaine is?"

The way he looks to the side isn't a "let me try to find him" but a "there's something wrong."

He bites his lip and turns back to me. "Before you see him, I think you should know something." I nod and he steers me away from the crowd out of ear shot. "Blaine attempted suicide last month. He said he hated himself and he was so disgusted with what he did, he just couldn't handle it anymore."

"Wait, my Blaine? Blaine, who was just on stage, attempted to- to..." I can't even say the word. I don't even want to think it. Sam only nods and tells me he might be in the dressing room.

I take a deep breath as I jog there, catching my breath before opening the door to see him taking off his stage make up.

It's awkward, and I know he doesn't want me there. That he's still trying to get over-

"You killed it up there," I say softly, making my presence known as I walk further into the room and close the door.

He shrugs as if he doesn't believe the words. He makes up some silly excuse for me to leave, but I ignore it. I need to talk to him, especially after what I just learned.

"Blaine," I say with a small sigh as I take his hand away from his face, holding it tightly in mine. "Sam told me what happened last month."

He takes his hand away so quickly it's like I actually hurt him physically.

"He shouldn't have." He says softly, and he sounds so broken, and it physically pains me to see him this way.

"I'm glad he did." Because you wouldn't have told me, is burning in the back of my mind, but it goes unsaid. "I hated what you did to me, but I shouldn't have cut you off like that."

He goes on an almost rant about he deserves it, that he wishes he were dead. I try to hold back my tears at that, swallow down the sob and bile that's rising up my throat at once.

Somehow I find the strength to stand in front of him, so close that I could lean that extra inch and press my lips to his.

"I've forgiven you. All you have to do is accept that and forgive me too." And it's true. Some part of me has forgiven him this last month, and he needs to know that, if only to get him to stop hurting.

I screwed up too. I ignored him, even before we took this break. It wasn't intentionally, but I hurt him as much as he hurt me. He needs to know it wasn't all of his fault even though he thinks that.

He spills everything that's happened over the last month. I want to just wrap him up in my arms and never let go, but I don't know if he would like the touch or not... Or if I'm even comfortable with it at the moment.

I hate how my voice breaks over the words I say after, hate that we're both crying, hate how we're both so hurt and how he seems so broken and small.

I make him promise to call me whenever, and I promise to call him this weekend, which is only two days away.

* * *

It's a week after we met in the dressing room and I'm sitting at my desk, just hanging up from a client when another call comes in.

It's Blaine and he's crying and he sounds so broken.

As he talks, as I tell him to take his pill, I search different airlines for the next flight out- just in case. I find one that leaves in two hours. My mouse hovers over the "book flight" button as we continue to talk, my finger flinching where it's resting on the button to click it.

I want to cry when he launches into everything that happened to turn him to this, but I have to be strong- for him.

He calms down enough that I'm convinced that he'll be ok. He tells me about the rest of the week and actually laughs and sounds so happy.

I reassure he's ok, and he doesn't need me there.

"I'm fine now... Thank you for being here Kurt."

"I'm not actually there you know," I say with a small laugh.

"It feels like you are."

Before I can even think about it, four words are tumbling out of my mouth.

"I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too Kurt." I can hear the smile in his voice.

When we hang up, I cover my mouth to muffle the sob that escapes and wipe at my eyes and cheeks when I hear heels clicking down the hall.

"Hey Kurt, we're just about to head into the meet- what's wrong?"

I take a deep breath and shake my head at my boss as I gather papers for the meeting.

"Nothing nothing. I'm fine. Lets go to the meeting."

I keep my head low as I squeeze past her and I'm startled when she grips my arm.

"If you need to go home, I understand. You know what, take the day. You've been working too hard anyway."

I smile at the woman in front of me and smile gratefully.

"Now get out of here and go buy a new outfit."

"Yes ma'am." I smile as I hand her the papers and let my resolve crumble once I'm out of the building. Instead of going clothes shopping, I go to the store, buy so ice cream and head back to the apartment to curl up in my bed and cry for the boy who hurt me and is now hurting.

* * *

When my dad calls to inform me we've been invited to a fellow congressman's house for thanksgiving, I don't express the actual disappointment I have when I know I can't see Blaine.

I do call him everyday though, and we both promise we'll see each other at Christmas.

When I call him at thanksgiving, he sighs and says he's spending it helping Sam at a local food shelter. His parents are out of the country on business and only left some money for pizza.

I look back to the dining room where my family is sitting and laughing along to a story told by the other congressmen and sigh.

"I wish I could be there with you."

"But you need to be with your family. It's alright. I'm actually having a really good time. It's nice to give back. It reminds me of last year at Christmas."

"When we were holiday roommates?"

"When we were holiday roommates."

* * *

It's Christmas and seventy eight phone calls later (yes, I marked all of them on the calendar including what his mood was and whether it was a good or bad day) that i finally get to see him.

We get coffee, cuddle up on the couch when it starts to snow too hard, my dad, almost hesitantly, telling Blaine to stay the night because its so bad.

Blaine looks incredibly small when he asks if he can sleep in my room. I nod with a smile and take his hand and clutch it tightly as we continue to watch White Christmas.

The afternoon falls, and all to soon it's time to head up for the night. My dad eyes us carefully as we retreat upstairs, me holding his so tightly, and him holding it equally so.

When he reaches for the blankets, which he still oddly remembers is on the shelf of the closet and tosses them on the ground, I scrunch my eyebrows together.

"What are you doing?"

He turns around startled and shrugs. "Making a make shift bed for the night."

I roll my eyes fondly and take his hand and practically shove him on the bed.

"Get in," I say playfully as I too climb under the covers. I don't miss the small smile that is on his lips.

When he turns his back to me and mutters a goodnight once the lights are off, I do what I've been wanting to do for months. I scoot over towards him and press my front to his back until our bodies are slotted together perfectly.

He sighs happily as he takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

The next day is spent in bed, declaring our love to each other. The looks on my family's faces tells me they know that we're back together.

I kiss him softly when the others backs are turned.

"I sure do love you," I sigh.

"I love you too. Forever and always."

"Forever and always."


End file.
